The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1887-02-16
THE BOSS OF BlRANGlROO.


him to diel"
He was all alone in the hut. He sat
on packing case staring into the fire,
his elbows on his knees and his head on
his hands, talking to himself, as solitary
men will. There was gloomyshelpless
perplexity in his look, as he thrust the
burning brands together with the toe of
his boot, and muttered over and over
again-"Bo a-dyin' mop
A stray stock rider had passed by
that afternoon, on his way to a distant
station, and brought the news from Ba-
Kangaroo.
1t was Murdoch, of Barangaroo-Len-
nox Murdoch, who lay dying-slowly
dying in torture e-helplessly crushed and
mangled by a falling tree, as he was
overseeing some timber cutting in the
bush. The man whose gay fearlessness
was the wonder of the colony-who had
ridden unharmed time after time through
the very jaws of death-the reckless,
wayward, fantastic soul, to whom NOR
tai danger was as familiar friend
whom every one loved and laughed at
so full of life, and Joy in life. Why, the
very thought of his dying was impossi-
bic and incongruous-at least it seemed
as if the only fitting close to such
career would be swift, sudden stroke
to be snatched away in a mon ent, with
the laughing light still in his eyes, and
the last snatch of song still lingering
on his lip. 1t seemed unnatural, horri-
bic, for Lennox Murdoch, of all men, to
be lying on his back in the darkened
room, with closed eyes, and drawn,
white lips. So thought his overseer,
who had carried him up stairs in his
arms, and laid him tenderly down ON the
bed he would never leave again-feeling
all the time, grave, quiet Scotsman as
he was, as if his own heart would break.
So thought though they could not per-
haps have put it into words-the men
who hung gloomily about the doors, or
listlessly went through with their work
silently, or speaking in hushed voices
to each other. There might have been
better men-there certainly were many
far more judicious and with better reg
ulated minds-whereas the censorious
might have said that Lennox Murdoch's
mind was not regulated at all but there
was not a shepherd, or hut keeper, or
hand of any sort on the station that
would not have given anything to "haye
Murdoch round again in good tearin'
temper" as one of them said. No, they
would never hear his wrathful har-
angues or his reckless "chaff' again.
And this man who now sat over the
fire, this great, black-bearded, hah-sav-
age, heather Englishman, had heard the
news with stolid apathy, and scarcely
said word. Perhaps the idea took a
| long time to reach that slow moving
I .fI Il haH
gone he slung the billy and sci the tea
to boil, and got all things ready as usual
for his mates when they should return !:
ard then be settled down to his br0odlng
watch over the fire, muttering broken
words to himself.
He was not man of many ideas
that was apparent at the first glance.
| Probably he had not started in life with
an excessive amount, as his experience
as an ordinary seaman on board various
small merchant vessels, and later as a
convict in Sydney, had not tended to in
crease or elevate his stock. But, once
he had acquired notion of any sort, he
clung to it, or it to him, with the tenac-
ity of the limpet on the rock.
| | do not think he remembered HIM
self what offense he had been transport
ed for. Perhaps many years of solitary
bush life had affected his memory, and
its dull uniformity deadened the past
into one blurred haze. Like that of the
savage, his mind did not look after, nor
very far before; yet utterly inactive il
was not. He did think and reason, in
his slow, dogged fashion. He was not
cunning, nor naturally cruel, though his
ship and prison life had generated in
him dull. brooding ferocity that some
times came to light in outbreaks OF
fury.
And the highest idea the man was ca
pabie of conceiving was embodied in the
words, Murdoch of Barangaroo.
i This is how it came.
4 He had gradually become possessed oi
vague belief that it was the destiny
i and norma, condition of man to b,
sworn at, cuffed, kicked, and general,
considered a nuisance, unless it were hi
happy lot to be able to swear at other.
In his turn, and acquiesced therein il
his dull, passive way. And so, wher
| his time was out, and he set forth on hi
aimless wanderings, he drifted out t,
Barangaroo Station, with convict writ
ten on eyerv line of his slouching figur,
. and sullen face. And it came to pass
lone hot December morning, that b
, stopped listlessly by the door of Mur
, doch's shearing shed, and saw maj
ride by at tearing gallop, on a magnif
cent black horse-a man in a scarle
shirt, with curly head and twinkliny
eve, Who suddenly reined up, stoppe'
short, and shouted:
aHaHo, old cocki have you any pal
, ticuIar engagement And while Bil
Adamson was slowly trying to evolve a
answer, he was surprised by anothe
, Iquestion:
s.Can you sheer sheep without cut
: ting him all to pieces r
: Adamson fixed his eyes-on the franl
kindly face that looked down O
him, and gradually finding his voic.
Isaid:
= Il don't know, but III try
( .Come on, then." said Murdoch,
s he sprang down and hitched his hors
I to post. But before he had gone thrs
: steps be turned and leaned against tt
xall, with his hand against his sid
shaking with laughter.
sYousre ! rum customer. you ar,
You've never asked me what you're
getr
The man dropped hi1 head and kick,
Inervoasly af Stone On the groun
! Then 81 muttered, without looking